+- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Archives (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11)
+--- Thread: sometimes quiet is violent (/showthread.php?tid=7380)
sometimes quiet is violent - Junkyard Dog - February 06, 2015
@Burke
EDIT:
This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.
The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Graphic violence.
EDIT:
Mature Content Warning
This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Graphic violence.
Hunger gnawed at her from the inside out, killing her slowly. The cold winds whipped at her skin, cutting through her thin coat and killing her quickly. Alone, she did not think that she would survive the night. Parting from her pack had ensured her death would be swift upon her. This was what she preferred, in the end. For tonight she could sleep, fall into darkness and wake no more. It would be quiet, peaceful, and more than she felt she deserved.
All of her loose ends had been tied up, severed with the ties that she cut with Dogmeat. He and the pack were behind her, but it was they who she thought about as she trekked over the unfamiliar lands. At first, she thought to skirt around the wolf territory that she scented, a dark and foreboding forest it seemed to her. But the thoughts of caches, stores and stores of food, called to her. Her hunger was great, and though she could not stave off death, the thought of falling asleep with a full stomach was more appealing than an empty one.
So she crossed into the lands, searching until she found a store of half-frozen meat buried beneath the snow. With a furtive glance, she snatched a large rabbit's carcass and turned, swiftly making her escape back the way she had come.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Burke - February 06, 2015
The large male was mostly occupied with patrolling the ground and filling up the caches, someone needs to do it. Burke knew the others helped, the caches were especially helpful for the priestess that was now a mother. The tank of a male was certain to stay far away from them. He wasn't a fan of little squealing babies and he would hate to 'accidentally' kill one. Then Meldresi would never have him, ever. She was a mother and mothers dislikes death of their children. He remembered their wrath.
Once the male walked past the border he caught an unknown scent crossing into their lands. It wasn't that of a wolf? But it also seemed like it was? Burke was eagerly investing the smell when the scent became stronger. His cold blue eyes looked up and spotted the dark.. dog. He preyed on a few of them. Useless things. Once he spotted the carcass in the other's mouth Burke let out a deafening snarl. His tank like body moved between her and the border. "Where do you think you are going with that?"
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Junkyard Dog - February 06, 2015
Junkyard Dog was pleased with her victory. The borders were not far, now, and she had her spoils in hand. She would succeed here where they had not before, back in the Bypass. Now she knew that the key to success was silence, a quick in and out with one single dog. Soon she would be at the borders, into open lands. Not long from now she would eat her meal and find a place to take her final rest. She was content, though afraid.
Or so she thought, until a hulking beast of a wolf arrived. In her less than lucid state, he appeared larger than any beast ever could be, towering among the rising trees. Junkyard Dog quailed at his arrival, skittering away from her path before fear rooted her to the spot. Every muscle was tense, staring at him with wide eyes. "Leaving," she said, dropping the rabbit at his feet. Then she straightened up, hoping to edge around him. If all went well, perhaps he would allow her to leave unscathed. This was not the death she wanted. If she had to forgo the meal, so be it, but she would die on her own terms, and not at the hand of the beast before her.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Burke - February 06, 2015
Burke let out a wicked smirk when he saw how startled and in fear the mutt looked. He disregarded the rabbit falling on the ground. His eyes were kept on the intruder. His lip curled over his upper teeth, showing off the sharp fangs in his mouth. Burke was used to killing. This dog would be like swatting a fly. The female was weak, underfed and would die soon anyways. Usually Burke was calm of mind but he disliked the fact that someone took what was not theirs to take. The dog had gotten some really bad luck, on top of being abandoned by humans.
"Oh no you are not. This pack doesn't make intruders leave," he pointed out. The large grey had heard the story of Star now, he knew what happened to the Swift Current Girl. He wasn't going to let a dog take away their food and then have them comeback to scavenge more. He had to eliminate the source immediately. The wolf followed her every move. He wasn't going to let her escape. Death would be the only way to go.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Junkyard Dog - February 06, 2015
Not like this.
Every feature of the fell beast was rife with unchecked malice. Evil and darkness clothed him. Junkyard Dog's eyes dogged him with naked terror, jumping around to try and find an avenue of escape. His lip curled up, giving her a view of rows upon rows of pointed teeth. Terror gripped her, adrenaline coursing like fire in her veins, alighting with a vigor unlike any she had felt in better days. Muscles tensed, there was a moment of ma, a space between action and reaction where her body wrestled with it's options. She could fight or she could flee.
Her body chose to flee, and so she did.
Where her mind failed her, her body did not. Thousands of years of selective breeding awoke in her bones, and the intent of the Men who bred her ancestors drove her legs to push her forward. With great speed she ran, though she ached and hungered.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Burke - February 06, 2015
The large male seemed to have awoken the fleeing side of the dog. He hadn't expected her to run this fast with her condition. His snarling stopped once she fled. Immediately Burke wanted to chase her, hunt her, kill her. Thieves were not appreciated. Her last moments in life would be lived in fear. Now, due to Burke's large size he was not the fastest, and definitely not compared to the dog.
What Burke did have was the stamina and health to keep up. Immediately he chased after her into Black Feather territory since he blocked her escape to the outside world. Hopefully she would run into the thick mud of a swamp or stumble down in hear weakness. "You can't run from me. I will have you. Mine. Mine. Mine," Burke called out. He only said those things to make her flee even more, let her use more adrenaline and tire her out completely. Burke could see the dark female in the distance. His excellent nose kept track of her fresh scent. His long legs strode after her on an even pace. He would just run her down at his own speed. She couldn't hide. He would smell her.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Junkyard Dog - February 06, 2015
Though it could not have been more than a minute or two, Junkyard Dog's flight felt like an eternity. In that time she was a beast of instinct, the only sounds her breathing and the steady beating of her paws against the ground. It was a strange experience, a moment suspended in time where all was slow. Soon, her condition caught up with her, as exhaustion trumps all. Weariness like a fire burned in her legs, rendering them unstable until-
one foot slipped on the slick snow. Try as she might, she could not regain her footing. In her attempt to do so, she twisted her ankle and, finally, fell. She skidded, for a moment, rolling with her momentum, before settling in a heap. Junkyard Dog could not see her pursuer, but she could hear him, calling terrible things into the dark. The dog gasped, pulling in air as quick as she could as she pulled herself up on unsteady legs. It was futile, but she crept away, careful not to stress her injured paw. Rather than run, an impossibility even if she wasn't injured, she tried to hide, tucking herself behind a tree. There she listened for the beast, trying to quiet her heavy breathing.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Burke - February 06, 2015
Just so you know I feel so bad for writing this. :P Poor JD.
Burke kept on running confidently on the same pace. Eventually her black coat mingled perfectly with the dark background. Burke was limited to his nose and ears. Not that it worried him. This female was not going to escape his clutches. His mindset was on the hunt. It would only make it so much more fun when he caught her. Burke's evenly breathed pants filled the air. The tank made an emergency stop once he ran over the place where the female slipped. He turned back to sniff it out. A low growl came from his muzzle before continuing to track her in a quickly paced trot.
His docked tail was up and moving, showing his eager mindset. The brute followed her pawprints in the snow along with her scent. "You reek of fear, silly girl," he pointed out once he was close. He came closer to the tree and then popped his head around it. "Booooh," his monotone voice tried to startle her for another chase. His ice blue eyes staring her down. "Are you ready to take your punishment or do you want to run one last time?," the male snarled.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Junkyard Dog - February 06, 2015
<3 and also :( poor doggy
In the stillness of the dying day, Junkyard Dog could hear everything. Snow crunched under her assailant's paws, and his breaths came even, a ghostly precursor to something far more tangible. A silence fell for a moment, a space between their breaths. It seemed as though Junkyard Dog's heart was beating loudly, too loudly, oh, why wouldn't it be quiet? Could he hear it? How could he not?
As he spoke, she held her breath, trying desperately to keep quiet. He wouldn't find her. He wouldn't find her. He wouldn't-
Junkyard Dog let out a sound between a cry and a gasp, wheeling back as well as she could. He had appeared suddenly, and her heart leaped in her chest. Now cornered, she had nothing left but anger, rage at an unjust world that she fixed into a glare filled with poison. "Fuck you," she spat, having nothing else to say. Junkyard Dog would not run.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Burke - February 06, 2015
Yes. *pat* *pat* She was a good dog, okay!?! *feels*
The evil male let out a dark chuckle, a slow and raspy one that made shivers go down one's spine. Her fear was so obvious it made Burke want to tease and play with her even more. Oh and how his mother always said to not play with his food. The large male would never learn. To the dog he might be a demon. He liked that thought. Burke snarled lowly at there, his teeth so close to her, ready to grab her. But then her words stopped him from biting her.
"Oh well if you want a good fucking before you say goodbye I could have that arranged..." The male was horrible. Oh he knew he was. But he couldn't help but comment on it. Maybe it was the frustration that the light grey female, Crëyr, caused that he was such a sadistic monster towards this female.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Junkyard Dog - February 06, 2015
*pat pat* This one's short, I'm trying not to be too repetitive,,,
The demon grew ever closer, devil incarnate in a robe of shadows. A high whine eked from her throat, protests and begging living and dying on her tongue. She didn't allow them to fall, her final act of pride. She would not beg. Not even as he snarled, though she shrunk at the threat, flinching at her imminent death.
Then he stopped. Junkyard Dog's heart flipped, some sort of half-hope before he spoke again and all hope was lost. She growled, fire and poison in her glare. "I will rip your filthy cock off before you do," she spat, hackles raised and body tense. That was a promise she would make good on with the last of her strength if need be.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Burke - February 06, 2015
Not to worry. There we go shall we?
Burke slowly grinned into that wicked smile once more at her reply. He could always try after all. Only the male rather not have his cock bitten off. He liked his member fully intact and functioning, thank you very much. "So much for your last words. How elegant." With those words Burke lunged forward without mercy. The large grey actually found himself merciful. He could torture the female for days instead of this quick death. So for Burke this was being nice.
His jaws clamped around her neck, his teeth sinking though her soft skin. Burke's iron grip wouldn't let go as he held her against the bark of the tree she cowardly hid after. His finally blow that would make her go into forever sleep. Burke was grinning at the taste of blood. She stole from the caches? Well now he would drag her on top of the stored meat. He wondered how his packmates would react to have dog on their plate for dinner.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Junkyard Dog - February 06, 2015
:( RIP Junkyard Dog
Junkyard Dog drew herself up, as though the first act of defiance emboldened her. She opened her mouth to say something, to spit abuses at him again, but before any words could come out, he struck.
At first, it only felt like a pressure. Junkyard Dog struck out, struggling in his grasp, though in the end that would prove her downfall. Moments later, the pain caught up with her, and she let out a wheezing cry. Blood fell down her neck, hot in the cold air. She felt the rough bark against her back as she thrashed, the teeth digging deeper, deeper, until her strength failed her.
Time stretched longer in her final moments, where she drew in ragged breaths and let them out, steaming in the cold. And as her sight grew dim and her thoughts scattered, she recalled her single, comforting thought. The voice of Dogmeat rumbled a warm, comforting, "good dog" to her, and then Junkyard Dog was dead.
RE: sometimes quiet is violent - Burke - February 06, 2015
R.I.P. JD. :(
Burke slowly felt the life drain out of the female dog. When she struggled the large male only held her more firmly. His tongue tasting the blood making him almost hungry. For Burke it really felt like he was just killing prey. A thieving and cussing prey that is. Once her last breath was drawn Burke pulled her away from the bark. Blood had splattered on his chest and front paws. The white snow not so white anymore....
Burke then started the relocation of her body. He dragged her mangy and worn body to the place where the domestic dog had made her fatal fault. He dragged her on top of the pile like he envisioned. Burke was very organized, so he also retrieved the bunny and placed it back where it belonged... On their lands.